


A Place To Heal

by Green



Series: Whatever It Takes [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha Peter Hale, Cuddling & Snuggling, Feral Derek Hale, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 12:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29999250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: They have Derek back, but he's feral. Stiles and Peter do their best to cope.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Whatever It Takes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954054
Comments: 74
Kudos: 324





	A Place To Heal

**Author's Note:**

> Been sitting on this for awhile, but still haven't edited it too much. Please bear with me. NOTE: this series is eventual Derek/Peter/Stiles. That's where it's heading. If you don't like that, just don't read it and don't complain.

**PETER**

The safe house is situated in the desert, far away from other houses and anything resembling a town or even a neighborhood. 

"Not bad," Stiles says when he sees it, and Peter looks down at Derek, who's stirring again.

"One more dose of tranq, I think," Peter murmurs. 

"Half dose," Stiles says.

Peter nods. They don't know what they'll find inside, but hopefully, there is a safe place for Derek. Still, to move him again he'll need to be asleep or he'll fight it.

Stiles stays back when Derek wakes and lets Peter inject the tranquilizer. Stiles is right; half should do it.

Stiles hurries ahead to the door and punches in the code on the lock. It opens with a soft hiss, and Peter's impressed with the security. 

Stiles walks in and Peter tries to follow, but he's stopped by an invisible wall. He growls. "Stiles."

"What?"

"Mountain ash," Peter says. Derek is lighter than he should be in Peter's arms, though he's not very comfortable to hold. Peter's ready to set him down.

"Oh!" Stiles says, and closes his eyes.

"Don't you feel it when it's close?" Peter asks irritably.

"Not when I'm not looking out for it," Stiles answers without, apparently, breaking focus. 

Peter feels when the barrier goes down, though Stiles didn't even make a gesture to render it useless. The boy is much more powerful than he thinks, but Peter can't think about that now. He needs to get Derek in the house.

Inside, Stiles flicks on a few lights and Peter looks around, impressed. Most safe houses he's been in aren't so cozy. 

"Braeden said her friend keeps the place stocked, so we should be set," Stiles says. He checks out all the rooms ahead of Peter and sighs. "Do you think we could clean him up before he wakes?"

"Not with just a half dose. I think we'll be waiting until he trusts us enough to let us help."

Stiles looks at Derek thoughtfully as Peter lays him down on a couch. Derek shouldn't stay there for long, probably needs to be put in a basement, but for now Derek can at least be comfortable, even if he doesn't know it.

"We got him," Stiles murmurs to himself, and as Peter watches his eyes fill with tears.

"Come here," Peter says. Stiles lets himself be drawn into Peter's arms, and at first seems reluctant but then he's clinging. He smells like sadness and anxiety but for the most part the fresh scent of relief wafts from him. Peter holds him close, lets him cry, and for a moment feels as if he could cry himself.

He doesn't, of course. If Stiles is going to fall apart, Peter needs to be the strong one. 

"We got him," Stiles repeats. "So why… why do I feel as if it's only the beginning?"

Peter looks over Stiles's shoulder at Derek. His nephew has his eyes open, just slits, but he's watching them. There's no telling what's going on in his drugged, feral mind, but he doesn't seem hostile, just curious, and the bond between them feels the slightest bit stronger. 

He pulls away from Stiles to approach Derek. When Derek starts to tense, Peter stops, shows his hands. "Derek. Pup, it's safe. You're safe."

Derek's gaze sharpens just a little, and Peter doesn't know if he can understand Peter's words, but he should be able to parse the tone.

Peter kneels beside the couch, not too close but not far, either. "We got you out of that place. You don't have to fight anymore. Stiles and I will take care of you until you can take care of yourself again. You don't have to worry. You're safe."

Stiles shuffles closer, even when Peter puts out a hand for him to stop. He doesn't know if Derek will lash out or not, in confusion or anger, and he doesn't want Stiles in range if that happens.

"Hey, big guy," Stiles says. "I'm so glad you're… you're… okay. Ish. You're okayish. You're alive, I mean, and we're gonna get you better. Me and Peter. And Cora, when she can come, so you'll have your pack around you. I know you need that. I know I'm not really pack, but I... " He swallows audibly. "I care about you, Derek. I'm hoping that's enough."

Derek's eyes are on Stiles now, but Peter doesn't see a bit of comprehension in that look. He seems curious, though. 

"You're a mess, dude," Stiles says quietly. He moves closer but then Derek lets out a soft growl and he stops. "Okay, no closer. I gotcha. See, no words needed."

"You're too close, Stiles," Peter warns him.

Stiles doesn't look away from Derek. "What else is new? I'm fine. Derek's not going to hurt me."

"You don't know that," Peter says, as calmly as he can. He's trying not to spook Derek, and letting irritation or fear into his voice won't help.

Derek struggles to sit up on the couch. Stiles makes a small movement like he wants to help, but thankfully doesn't move to touch Derek. Not yet, anyway.

"You're safe," Stiles says. It's like a mantra they keep repeating, both to Derek and to themselves. 

Peter moves forward an inch and Derek snarls quietly. He's too weak to fight right now but that doesn't mean he won't try. 

"It's okay, Derek," Peter says. Maybe using his name will bring him back sooner. 

Stiles gets down on his knees so he's lower than Derek. It's smart, makes him less of a threat. Derek's eyes go to Stiles but he doesn't growl again. 

"Hey, remember me?" Stiles says. "You know me. Stiles. The annoying human."

Derek tilts his head. Peter doesn't think he understands, but he seems somewhat fascinated by Stiles. Good.

"We're going to help you, pup," Peter murmurs. Derek's eyes swing to him. Peter sighs and reaches out, wanting to share his scent, but Derek snaps and his claws catch on Peter's hand, drawing blood.

"Shit!" Stiles says, scrambling back.

Peter looks at his hand. It's not as bad as it could be. Derek's like an annoyed cat, swiping at things he doesn't want near him.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asks.

"It's nothing," Peter says. It's already healed.

"You shouldn't do that," Stiles says, actually scolding Derek. "We're here to help you, we-"

"Stiles, darling, stop," Peter says. "He can't help it. I pushed and he wasn't ready."

Stiles takes a breath. "Right. Okay, fine." He looks at Peter's hand with a small frown. "You sure you're okay?"

Peter rolls his eyes but he can't help but feel touched. "It's healed."

Derek is back to watching them curiously. He smells anxious, but even that's starting to relax. 

"No sudden moves," Peter says.

Stiles huffs. "No need to remind me." He looks at Derek. "I don't heal, buddy. No trying that shit with me."

Of course Derek doesn't understand that, so Peter's going to have to protect Stiles.

Derek's starting to shake off the tranquilizer, though. His eyes are getting clearer, but they're going to have to move him off the couch soon. 

"Back up and go check out the basement," Peter says. "We're going to have to put Derek in there for awhile."

"He seems okay?" Stiles says. "I can just put some mountain ash around the family room and-"

"Stiles," Peter says, interrupting him. "If we leave him in here, he'll make a mess of it. He's still very feral."

"But the basement seems like another cage," Stiles argues. "He should be somewhere soft, at least, and-"

"Stiles."

The boy looks at him with frustration in his eyes. "Peter."

"Go look and see if the basement is suitable."

Stiles flicks a glance at Derek, but nods. He backs away from the couch and gets out of the room, leaving Peter with his feral nephew.

"He doesn't do everything I say, but at least he listens," Peter says conversationally.

Derek looks away, looks around the room. Then he looks back at Peter. He's probably looking for a way out, wanting to get _away_ , and Peter can't allow that. With a quick flick of his wrist and some sleight of hand, he has a tranq ready. He moves fast enough that Derek doesn't see it coming.

Derek thrashes when he's stuck with the needle, and gives Peter a look of betrayal that would be heartbreaking if Peter cared about such things.

Derek flops down on the couch and Peter pets his hair. Scents his arm, his shoulder. 

"There you go, pup. Go back to sleep."

Derek blinks at him sleepily, a furrow between his brows, and obeys.

* * *

The basement is not what they're expecting. Instead of a cold, utilitarian space, they find something perfect for their needs.

Half of the space is storage — freeze dried foods and cases of water, plus lots of necessities like toilet tissue and shampoo. But that's just the back half.

The main part of the basement is cozy. Thick rugs, a sectional sofa large enough to serve as a bed, pillows, throw blankets, the works. It's better than the family room upstairs, and this one is contained. 

It also has a bathroom.

Peter carries Derek downstairs after Stiles comes back and says the basement is suitable.

"We should clean him up," Stiles says. "He's covered in blood and dirt."

Peter knows Stiles keeps bringing it up because it's upsetting for him. Hell, it upsets Peter too, but he doesn't want to push their luck.

Stiles looks at Derek, then back at Peter, pleading in his eyes. "Please."

There's not a lot Peter wouldn't give this boy. It's a good thing he doesn't know that. "Fine. But we do it fast, and only the worst of it."

Stiles nods seriously.

"Go get a warm, soapy cloth and I'll get him out of these clothes," Peter says. 'Clothes' is a kind word for what Derek's wearing. It would be much more truthful to say 'rags'.

"I'll get something of yours?" Stiles asks.

"I've got sweatpants, but I don't know if he'll tolerate them." It depends how feral Derek really is. Will he accept the new scent, or will he want to rip the fresh clothes right off?

"He's wearing something now," Stiles points out.

Peter narrows his eyes as he takes in Derek's clothing. The jeans are tight but ragged at the edges. Derek may have tried to take them off but didn't know how. Then again, he could have just sliced them off with his claws if he really wanted to.

Peter nods. "We'll see."

Derek's hair is the longest Peter's seen since that one summer between middle school and Derek's freshman year of high school, when he'd decided he wanted to try and grow it out. That hadn't lasted long, but it was cute.

His beard is too long now, too. Peter wishes he could shave it off, but he knows better than to go near Derek with a razor right now. If clippers weren't so loud, he'd attempt those.

"Scissors, maybe?" Stiles asks when he returns, seeming to read Peter's mind. 

Peter hums, ignoring the question, and takes the soapy cloth from Stiles.

"Hey, I could do that, you know," Stiles protests.

"I don't want you too close to him," Peter says.

"He's completely out," Stiles says irritably.

Peter shakes his head and drags the cloth over Derek's face. Soon he's got most of the dirt off his face and neck. He sets the cloth aside and slices through the remnants of the shirt Derek's wearing, taking it off him. Thankfully it doesn't stick to him with blood and whatever else. He figures Derek's captors had at least hosed him down from time to time.

"Here's your sweatpants," Stiles says.

"Thank you," Peter murmurs. "Can you rinse this?"

"Yeah," Stiles says. "He's still asleep, can I-"

"I don't want to risk it," Peter says. But Stiles is looking bereft and so Peter finally gives in and nods. "Fine. But be careful."

Stiles flashes him a smile and goes to rinse the cloth.

* * *

**STILES**

They manage to do a decent job of cleaning Derek up between the two of them, and Stiles breathes a little easier when he can see _Derek_ instead of what he went through. Not that Stiles knows exactly what he went through. Guessing is bad enough.

"What happened when they took you?" Stiles asks Peter.

Peter shrugs, his eyes on Derek. "Roughed me up, but they didn't drug me much. I guess they figured you'd given me enough to last awhile."

"I'm glad that part of the plan worked," Stiles says, relieved. He knows it must have been hard for Peter to put himself in that situation, even for Derek, even knowing Stiles and Braeden were right on the outside, ready to break him out. It put Peter in a vulnerable position and Stiles knows him well enough to understand Peter hates being vulnerable.

They've dressed Derek in soft clothes, and Stiles knows they smell like Peter. 

"Do you think him having your scent like this will be good or bad?" he asks.

Peter gives him a wry look. "I wouldn't have done it if I thought it would make things worse."

Chastised, Stiles feels his cheeks warm. "Right." He looks at Derek, who appears to be still sleeping. He reaches out and cards his fingers through Derek's much cleaner hair. "Maybe it will stop him from seeing you as an enemy."

"He doesn't understand what's going on. For all he knows, we're just new jailers." Peter stands and stretches. Stiles watches out of the corner of his eye. "We have to wait, let him learn to trust us again."

"Shouldn't he remember _something_?" Stiles asks, frustrated.

"Hopefully our scents are familiar. I think it's working so far. After all, he hasn't tried to kill us yet," Peter says.

Stiles snorts. He touches Derek's beard gently. It's longer than Stiles has ever seen on him before, and much less groomed. At least it's clean now, and softer than he thought it would be. "Does he look skinnier to you?"

"Yes, he's lost weight," Peter says. "It shouldn't take much for him to gain it back again. Which reminds me, we should be finding food for ourselves, too."

Stiles motions to the other half of the basement. "Pick and choose, dude. Braeden's friend seems to be some kind of prepper."

"You need to fix the mountain ash before we do anything else," Peter reminds him. 

"Oh, right," Stiles says. He stands and paces off part of the basement. "About here?"

"Let me get out of the way first," Peter reminds him dryly. But first he gives Derek another look and reaches out to touch him. Scent him. He pauses, looking as if he might bend down and kiss Derek's forehead, but then he shakes himself and moves away.

Stiles watches him, his heart turning over. Peter really does care about his nephew. Seeing this side of him makes Stiles want to see even more.

"Now," Peter says.

"Right." Stiles places the mountain ash he collected from upstairs and closes his eyes, letting his belief take over. He believes the barrier will keep him safe. He believes it will hold Derek without making him feel too confined. He doesn't know if that one will work, but he finds if he really concentrates and uses the small spark inside him, things usually work out the way he wants them to, when using mountain ash.

He breathes out when he feels the ash snap into place.

When he opens his eyes, Peter's smiling. "You're rather good at that."

Stiles shrugs off the praise even though it makes him feel warm. "Gotta be, sometimes. I mean, it's nothing special, but-"

"Don't belittle your abilities."

Stiles closes his mouth and frowns. Licks his lips nervously. He never knows how to take honest compliments. He shrugs again and turns away, walking toward the shelves of food. "What do you want for dinner? I've never tried freeze dried stroganoff before, but it doesn't sound half bad."

"See if you can find something protein-rich for Derek," Peter says, and Stiles nods. 

Eventually they agree on lasagne, which has plenty of meat in the sauce and heats up to smell really good. Peter doesn't even scrunch his nose at it, which Stiles takes as a win.

"We should eat with Derek," Stiles says, and doesn't wait for Peter to reply before he heads back downstairs.

Derek's awake, sitting up on the couch. He looks confused, but his nostrils flare when he sees the plates in Stiles's hands. 

"Hey, big guy," Stiles says. "Got some yummy food for you."

Peter is following behind him, his own plate in his hand. "Stiles…"

"I'll be careful," Stiles promises. He hopes it doesn't register as a lie. "How should I do this?"

Peter takes one of the plates from him. "Can you lower the barrier and then bring it back up again quickly?"

"Sure," Stiles says. "Tell me when." He closes his eyes.

"Take it down," Peter murmurs, and Stiles does. He feels Peter move past him, then back. "Okay, up again."

Stiles obeys and opens his eyes. Derek isn't looking at the food but watching Stiles. He looks like he's trying to figure something out. Stiles takes that to be a good thing.

"Let's eat," Stiles says, smiling at Derek. He takes a bite of his own food and is surprised at how good it tastes. For previously dessicated lasagne, that is. "Okay?"

Peter put a fork on the plate for Derek, but apparently being feral makes you ignore things like eating utensils. Derek looks at Peter, then Stiles, before picking up a piece with his fingers. He brings it to his nose and sniffs it.

"Let's not be picky, nephew," Peter says, humor evident in his voice.

Derek shoves the bite into his mouth, then grabs for more. It's not until then that Stiles realizes just how hungry he must be.

And seeing Derek eat relaxes something in Stiles's own stomach, and he's able to eat his food easily. Before, his belly had been in knots. He was worried, he realizes now. Worried that Derek wouldn't trust them enough to eat what they gave him. 

"Good sign?" he asks Peter.

"Absolutely a good sign."

* * *

It seems that Stiles's default mode right now is worried. He worries about Derek, about what will happen, about if he's going to stay feral or slowly come back to himself the way Peter seems to think he will. And Stiles worries about Peter, about how tense he is and how he seems to be holding himself together for everyone because Stiles can't do it.

"When's the last time you got some sleep?" Stiles asks him. 

Peter's eyes are bloodshot and there are actual bags there. Dark circles, too. Stiles can't _help_ but worry, and if Peter doesn't get some sleep, he's going to get pissy, and Stiles doesn't want him dealing with Derek in a pissy mood.

Derek's pissy enough for the three of them.

"You haven't been sleeping, either," Peter points out.

"I've gotten more than you," Stiles says. "Go on upstairs, catch up a few hours of sleep. Derek's not going anywhere."

Peter looks at Derek, who's crouched on the arm of the sofa like the world's most gorgeous gargoyle. He also looks like he needs to relax, but Stiles can't seem to convey 'lie down and chill, dude'.

"What will you be doing?" Peter asks Stiles.

Stiles shrugs. "I'll just hang out here with Derek."

"Outside of the barrier? At all times?" Peter asks.

"Sure," Stiles says. "I want to help him, but if I got too close he'd probably eat me. Don't worry so much, Peter. I've got a good sense of self preservation, you know."

Peter arches a brow. 

Stiles sputters. "I do!"

"I must be thinking of some other boy who rushes into danger at the drop of a hat."

"I only do that when somebody's about to die, man," Stiles defends. "C'mon. I'm not an idiot."

Peter gives him a long look. He looks so tired Stiles worries he'll fall over. Derek, of course, is watching their interaction with interest, even though he doesn't seem to understand a word they say.

"I do need to get some sleep," Peter finally concedes. He looks at Derek, then back at Stiles. He reaches out and touches Stiles's neck, his shoulder. Scenting him. He probably wouldn't be so blatant about it if he wasn't so tired, but then again, maybe it's for Derek's benefit.

Maybe Peter's marking Stiles as pack so Derek won't be so hostile toward him, though he's not really too irritable as long as they keep their distance.

Stiles is still for a moment, letting the scenting sink in, but then he moves quickly to give Peter a hug. It's meant to be an in and out, there and back kind of action, but once he wraps his arms around Peter, Peter retaliates and hugs back. Then Stiles is being held, and he's not sure if he's giving comfort of being comforted.

Peter kisses his forehead before he backs off. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then goes upstairs.

Stiles is left staring after him. He reaches up and touches his forehead, the spot where Peter kissed him feels warm to the touch, though that might be his flushed face.

He turns around and looks to find Derek watching intently. Stiles smiles weakly at him. "Weird, huh?"

Derek furrows his brows. 

Stiles sits on the floor, right outside the barrier, and takes out his phone. He's got missed calls from friends, from Scott, from his dad. He rubs a hand over his face. 

"Yeah, I gotta deal with this stuff eventually, right?" he says. Derek has no answer for him, so he sighs and sends Scott a text. Then he calls his dad.

He's expecting 'where are you' and 'what is happening' and 'are you okay?' but not the first thing out of his dad's mouth, which is, "Do you need anything?"

Stiles lets out a breath. "Yeah. No. No, we're okay."

"Start from the beginning," his dad says, and Stiles finds himself half rambling, half crying, explaining what happened (not everything, he leaves out the torture and killing of certain hunters) and where they are now.

"And Derek's just not himself, and I don't… don't know what to do for him," Stiles concludes.

"It sounds dangerous," his dad says. "But I get it, kid. It's Derek."

"Yeah," Stiles says tiredly, looking over at said feral werewolf. 

"What kind of timetable are we looking at?" his dad asks.

Stiles sighs. "I wish I knew."

"Have you talked to your instructors?" John asks.

"Dad, stop," Stiles says. "I can't think about that right now. I've got to focus on Derek. He's what's important."

John is quiet for a few moments. Stiles can hear him sigh and there's the sound of his chair squeaking as he leans back. "Kid."

"I need him to be okay," Stiles says quietly, imploringly.

Another sigh. "I know you do."

Stiles wants his dad to understand. "And if that means dropping out of the program, then that's what it means."

"You gotta think about your future, here," John says.

Stiles looks at Derek. Thinks about all the what-ifs and unspoken feelings. "I am."

They hang up not long after. Derek's watching Stiles intently.

"I know you don't understand all this, but… I really wish you'd come back to yourself," Stiles tells him.

Derek doesn't answer. Stiles isn't really expecting him to.

* * *

When Peter's been asleep for a few hours and Stiles has been talking to Derek for long enough that his throat is dry and sore, Derek's eyelids begin to droop. 

"Tired, buddy?" Stiles asks. "Yeah, me too."

Derek turns around, a lot like a wolf (or a dog, but Stiles isn't gonna make a joke right now), and then lies down on the couch in a curled up position. He rests his head on the cushion and blinks sleepily at Stiles.

"Yeah, get some sleep. That's a good idea," Stiles says. "I'm just gonna… stay over here, I guess. Make sure nothing happens."

Is it his imagination, or do Derek's eyes look a little more clear now? Maybe it was all the talking Stiles did. Surely he remembers him now, right?

Derek closes his eyes and Stiles lets out a breath. This is a good sign. Derek is letting his guard down in front of Stiles, no drugs necessary. 

"You're safe, Derek," Stiles murmurs. "Not gonna let anybody hurt you again."

Derek lets out a long sigh and then his breath evens out and the strong lines of his body relax. Stiles didn't realize how tense he'd been, even still, even in the last few hours.

But he's relaxed now. And sleeping even though Stiles is right there.

Stiles smiles to himself and gives the air a small punch. "Yes," he whispers to himself.

Unfortunately, now he's left with no one to distract him from his thoughts. No Peter to hold him when he starts to cry, so he's just not gonna cry at all, even though he feels like it. Questions circle around in his head: What if this is as good as Derek gets? What if he never comes back to himself? What if he never remembers Stiles, or Peter, or anything else? What if this is Derek's new normal?

Stiles bows his head and takes a breath. He can't think like this. It's only been a day — no, two days. Peter seems confident that Derek's state is temporary. But what if Peter's saying that so he doesn't dash Stiles's hopes?

Would Peter do that?

And what the hell is with Peter being so _nice_ and _comforting_ and _supportive_? Stiles barely recognizes him from the man he knew in Beacon Hills. Well, kinda knew. Was getting to know, a little, before all the leaving happened.

Stiles looks at Derek and marvels at how peaceful he looks. Maybe he'll dream a memory of Stiles, and when he wakes up he'll be grumpy and adorable and tell Stiles to shut up and leave him alone. 

Or maybe Derek will have a bad dream. That's much more likely after everything he's been through. 

Peter's warning to stay outside the barrier pings in his brain, but Stiles ignores it as he gets up and steps over the mountain ash to get to the couch. To get to Derek.

Stiles just wants to be there for him. A presence to maybe hold back the bad dreams. Maybe just being close to Stiles's scent will be enough for Derek to dream good dreams. 

He bites his lip and holds his breath. Sits down next to where Derek's curled up on the couch. 

Derek whines in his sleep. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Should Stiles move away again?

Derek looks so soft in his sleep. Stiles lets out a long breath, as quiet as possible. And then he does what he's been wanting to do and reaches out, lets his fingers touch Derek's hair. Just a little. Just a gentle pet. When nothing happens, Stiles does it again, and this time his fingers sink in a little farther and card through Derek's hair.

_I love you so much_ , Stiles thinks, his heart thudding in his chest, and that's when Derek comes awake.

It happens so quickly Stiles isn't sure at first it happened at all. He hears a snarl and feels his hand being knocked back onto the floor, and his eyes meet Derek's in a moment of panic. And then he sees the blood on his wrist. 

Stiles tries to scramble back, away from Derek in case he's going to attack again, and he's scared. Trapped between the couch and Derek. He's never been scared of Derek before but right now all he feels is fear.

Derek whines, high in his throat, and then moves. Stiles can't think, can only watch as Derek picks up his arm and looks at the wound he made.

Wound, ha. "Just a scratch," Stiles says, mostly to himself so he doesn't pass out from the sight of his own blood.

Derek whines again. 

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Stiles babbles frantically. "Derek please don't break my arm, I didn't mean to wake up you, I just… I just wanted to touch you and-"

He cuts himself off when Derek licks him. Stiles sucks in a breath and watches as Derek licks the blood that's running down his arm to his elbow, _lick lick lick_ until it's cleaned up and then Derek licks gently over the actual cut. It's shallow, Stiles sees now, just in a bad spot. And Derek is very…

Derek is acting apologetic.

"It- It's okay, big guy," Stiles says. "I know you didn't mean it. I startled you awake, huh?"

Derek whines and licks some more when more blood seeps out. Stiles reaches out, not even thinking, and puts his other hand on Derek's face. Derek makes a little flinch but then he's moving his face into Stiles's hand and whining again.

"I get it, it's okay," Stiles murmurs, his heart suddenly feeling full. This is progress! Derek's not trying to kill him, didn't want to hurt him, he just wants to nuzzle his hand and… _whoa_.

Derek pulls Stiles into his arms and cuddles him. Whines and scents him and shoves his nose into Stiles's neck. Stiles wraps his non-bleeding arm around him and holds on for dear life, tears easily coming to his eyes because this is a fucking breakthrough, and if all it took was a little bit of blood on his part, he's fine with it.

But then Stiles hears a roar and Peter swooping down the stairs to jump and land right in front of the barrier.

Peter's eyes are wide with worry, and when he can't get through the mountain ash, with frustration. "Get out of there, Stiles!"

Derek puts Stiles behind him quickly, like he's protecting him, and for some reason Stiles finds that amusing. He laughs, which brings Peter to look at the situation rather than just acting on… whatever it is he's acting on.

"I'm fine, Peter," Stiles says.

"Then why do I smell your blood?"

"It was an accident. Derek didn't mean to hurt me, and it's fine. I'm fine."

"Come here and let me see," Peter orders. 

Stiles huffs and pulls away from Derek. He walks just up to the edge of the barrier and holds out his arm. "It's stopped bleeding. It's fine."

Derek comes up beside him, whining again. He must realize to some extent what they're talking about.

"It's okay, big guy," Stiles says, giving Derek an impulsive hug as Peter watches. "He knows you didn't mean it."

"Why are you inside the barrier?" Peter asks.

Stiles licks his lips nervously. "Derek was sleeping. He… I didn't mean to startle him, and he didn't mean to hurt me. But look, now he's better!"

Derek steps closer to the barrier, to Peter, and bares his throat. Peter's eyes widen.

"Take the barrier down," he murmurs.

Stiles closes his eyes and does it. Then Peter is slowly reaching out to cup the side of Derek's neck. 

"You have to be more careful with Stiles," Peter murmurs to his nephew. "And you've got blood in your beard."

Stiles suddenly wishes he was a werewolf, too. He doesn't know all the undercurrents here, doesn't understand everything, just knows Derek submitted to Peter and Peter is… 

Well, Stiles isn't sure what Peter's feeling. There's relief in his eyes and something else, and Stiles can't parse it into human emotion because he can't smell what's going on.

Peter looks at Stiles. "Let me see your arm."

"I already showed you," Stiles says, but holds it out anyway. Peter inspects the scratch and for a moment, Stiles has the giddy thought that maybe he wants to lick it, too. He doesn't, but he does lower his head and kiss the broken skin. The sting of it is pulled away with the kiss, and Stiles realizes Peter drew the pain. Like that.

"You have to be more careful," Peter scolds him.

Stiles looks at Derek, sees he's watching them avidly. "Right. Let sleeping wolves lie."

"Why don't you go upstairs and make some breakfast?" Peter says. "I'll stay here with Derek."

"Want me to put the barrier back up?" Stiles asks.

Peter smiles, looking at Derek. "I don't think that's necessary."

Progress. Stiles hums a little as he goes upstairs, cataloging the food stores in his head and wondering what he should fix for such a special occasion.

* * *

**PETER**

The scent of Stiles's blood wakes Peter suddenly, violently, and he's moving before he can even think about what he's doing. He doesn't go into the situation with any kind of finesse, just roars his way into the basement like he's headed straight into a fight.

All the fight falls out of him when Derek apologizes and submits.

Afterward, when Stiles has left the room to get breakfast and Peter's left alone with Derek, he has time to consider what just happened. He tilts his head and watches Derek.

"You don't remember us, do you?" he murmurs.

Derek frowns, and Peter would be disappointed if not for one fact. The bond between them, the thing that connects them and makes them pack, is stronger. Peter closes his eyes and focuses on it, gives it a little tug from his end, and Derek makes a soft sound.

When Peter opens his eyes, Derek's touching his chest and Peter realizes he's doing the same. They feel it in the same place. Derek feels it. 

Peter smiles. "Well, that's something."

Derek shuffles forward, his eyes flicking up and down again, and Peter wishes the bond was strong enough to feel the subtle shift of his nephew's emotions. His scent is muddled, but fresher than it's been. Hopeful, maybe?

Peter reaches out, because Derek's moved into his space and seems to be waiting for something. Peter lifts his hand, and Derek looks from it to Peter's eyes. Wary, but standing firm. Peter clasps Derek's shoulder, firm and hopefully comforting.

And then Derek folds. He moves in close and Peter barely has a moment to think what he's doing when suddenly his nephew is in his arms, huffing his scent and holding on tight.

Peter closes his eyes and holds on, rubbing Derek's back. "There you go, pup." His chest feels tight. He's not used to feeling this much at once. And Derek smells content. Peter kisses his temple and lets out a long breath. "There you go."

Derek probably doesn't remember them, or if he does, it's not much. Maybe vague recollections, if anything. But he does understand pack, and the bond between him and Peter is stronger than ever. It's a tether to the world Derek must be thankful for. 

Peter's thankful for it, too. But it does make him wonder what Derek thinks of Stiles, who he doesn't have a bond with.

He should find out soon, because Stiles is stomping down the basement stairs and calling out to them, "I hope you're hungry!"

Peter watches carefully as Derek's head shoots up and his focus zeroes in on Stiles. It's not a hostile look, though. He seems fascinated by Stiles, watching his every move as he comes into the basement and puts down a plate of what looks like wraps and smells like egg and sausage.

"Breakfast burritos! I found them in the freezer. I tasted one already, they're really good," Stiles says. He looks between Peter and Derek. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Peter says. "Thank you for making breakfast."

Stiles goes a little wide-eyed at that, the way he always does when Peter thanks him for something. Really, the boy seems used to being taken for granted, and that's not right.

Or maybe he's just not used to Peter being grateful for things, which is something he should work on. He's grateful for Derek's improvement, and he knows he has Stiles to thank for it. He should say something about that, but now isn't the time.

"Hey, Derek," Stiles says. He holds out a burrito. "You hungry, buddy?"

Derek takes the food but doesn't eat it yet. Maybe he needs someone else to eat to prove it's safe. Peter takes one off the plate and takes a bite. It's not bad, for a microwaved food.

Derek takes a big bite of his then.

"Hmm," Stiles says.

"What is it?" Peter asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "I'm not sure. I'm working on a hypothesis. I'll let you know when I have an answer."

Peter's not sure what to think about that, so he rolls his eyes and focuses on Derek. Who's watching Stiles again now that he's finished his burrito.

"You want more?" Stiles asks him, and hands another one over. Derek smiles and eats. 

"Lots of improvement, I see," Peter murmurs.

"Yeah, and all it took was a little blood," Stiles says in a chipper voice.

Peter frowns. "You got lucky. It could have been so much worse. What were you thinking, going inside the barrier?"

Stiles looks away, smelling anxious. "Sorry. I know I promised not to."

"Stiles," Peter says helplessly. "You could have been seriously hurt."

"It was an accident," Stiles says. He looks at Derek. "You don't want to hurt me, do you, big guy?"

"Did you clean up your cut?" Peter asks.

Stiles shrugs. "Nah. It's no big deal."

Peter grabs his wrist. Looks at the cut again. "The last thing we need is you getting sick because you let it get infected."

Stiles goes still, looking at him. "It's okay," he says softly. 

Peter tugs him closer and Stiles comes to him easily. Peter searches his eyes. "You can't risk yourself like that."

Stiles swallows hard. "Do you really care?"

Answering that might give too much away. Peter looks from Stiles to Derek, breaking the moment. "Someone here cares a lot."

Derek is watching them intently, a furrow between his brows. Peter knows he doesn't understand their words, but probably can smell the complicated emotions coming off Peter. 

"Just Derek, huh?" Stiles asks, a little too astute.

Peter drops Stiles's arm. "No, sweetheart. But Derek's the important one."

Stiles licks his lips nervously and takes a step closer — but not to Derek. To Peter. "You're important, too."

Peter plasters on a grin and juts out his chin arrogantly. "Of course I am."

"Don't do that," Stiles says. He moves closer still, so that they're almost nose to nose. "You don't have to wear a mask with me." So close Peter can feel his body heat. Stiles's heart is beating harder and faster now. Derek is watching them with a tilted head and Peter's not sure what he supposed to do.

So while Peter's standing there dumbly, Stiles wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him close. Peter closes his eyes and buries his nose in Stiles's neck. He smells like himself, almost overwhelmingly so. But also like exhaustion and residual anxiety.

"Sweetheart," Peter sighs, and Stiles makes a soft, questioning noise. "You need a shower and sleep."

Stiles laughs but doesn't let go. "Are you telling me I stink?"

"I think you're exhausted and overtired," Peter says carefully, and pulls back to look into the boy's eyes. Sure enough, they're bloodshot and with dark circles. "You can go on upstairs. I've got this."

Stiles looks at Derek with softness in his gaze, but when he looks at Peter that softness doesn't go away. "Okay."

Peter gives his forehead a kiss before he can think better of it, but Stiles just smiles at him before pulling away. 

"Think I can get a hug, Derek?" Stiles asks, moving carefully closer to him.

"Slowly," Peter reminds him.

"Yeah." Then he's reaching out to Derek and tugging him into his arms. Derek moves smoothly, going easier than Peter would have thought.

When Peter sees them together, a host of complicated emotions stir in his chest and he has to force himself not to look away. Derek's head lifts up and he watches Peter over Stiles's shoulder. What he's looking for, Peter doesn't know, but Peter finds himself nodding anyway, like he's giving permission.

And Derek takes it as that. He bows his head and huffs against Stiles's neck, making Stiles laugh softly. 

"Wow, you give really great hugs," Stiles tells Derek, and Peter wonders if it's one of the first. Derek was never very demonstrative before, unless it was anger he was showing. And Peter knows about that first hand.

Derek lets out a low, pleased rumble. 

"Are you _purring_?" Stiles asks, sounding delighted.

Peter huffs and rolls his eyes. "He's not a cat."

Stiles pulls back and touches Derek's cheek. "That was totally a purr."

He smells of happiness and so does Derek. It would be too hard not to smile.

* * *

Peter listens, hears the shower going upstairs. He looks at Derek. "What about you? Feel like getting a shower?"

Derek tilts his head.

Peter looks toward the basement bathroom. "You could watch me get cleaned up, see if you're interested?" It's worth a shot.

The first thing he does is take off his shirt and grab the clippers. His own facial hair doesn't need much to keep it neat, but he trims a bit and lets Derek watch. Then he motions Derek closer and turns the clippers on again. Miraculously, Derek allows him to trim down his stubble to a manageable length. 

"Looking good again," Peter tells him. "Stiles will trip over his feet when he sees you."

They both have beard trimmings stuck to their skin despite the care Peter took, so it's time for a shower. Peter thinks it sounds like a good idea.

It's a terrible idea. 

Derek follows Peter into the shower, and Peter's too stunned to do anything but let him. At least Derek took his clothes off first. Or is that a bad thing? Peter's not sure.

"Okay, so this is…" Peter says, trailing off when he runs out of words. "Okay, then."

Nudity isn't a big deal to werewolves, but there's something about showering together that's special. Intimate. Peter is in no way equipped to deal with a handsy, feral werewolf who just wants to cuddle under the hot water.

"How about some soap?" he suggests, and grabs the cloth and some shower gel. He tries to put a little distance between himself and Derek, but Derek doesn't seem to understand personal space anymore. Peter hurriedly soaps up the wet cloth and then starts washing up. "See? Easy."

Derek watches, and Peter lets him, because what else does one do in this situation? He rinses out the cloth and soaps it again, then hands it to Derek.

"Your turn."

But instead of washing himself, Derek puts the cloth on Peter, running it over his shoulders and chest carefully. 

Peter swears and pulls Derek's hand away. Derek frowns but Peter moves the cloth to Derek's chest. "Like this, pup."

And that's how Peter ends up washing Derek, because Derek doesn't take the cloth back for himself. He acts like he wants Peter to do it, so Peter does, swearing inwardly the whole time. But he tries to be gentle. Understanding. Derek is dependent on him and Stiles right now, almost helpless in a way he knows Derek never wanted to be, and Peter wonders how much of this he'll remember once he's back in his right mind.

When the washing is done, Peter urges Derek under the spray and helps him wet his head. Then he gets the shampoo and carefully washes his hair. Derek lets out a soft sound, pleased, and Peter has to concede it does sound a bit like a purr. 

Not that he'll be admitting so to Stiles.

Derek lifts his head at exactly the wrong time and gets shampoo in his eyes. He whines, and Peter helps him rinse his eyes with water, then gets the rest of the suds out of his hair.

"You're just an overgrown pup," Peter murmurs when it's over. Derek gives him a disgruntled look, apparently still annoyed about the soap. 

Peter helps Derek dry off, and then Peter wraps a towel around his waist and looks for clothes. He sees Stiles brought his bag in when he wasn't paying attention, and he takes out clothes for himself and Derek. 

He can't deny he likes Derek smelling like him, but he doesn't want to examine that thought too closely.

"Oh, wow, what is this?" Stiles says, coming down the stairs and sounding stunned. Peter doesn't miss the way Derek perks up. 

"You were supposed to get some rest."

"Took a shower, laid in bed like a restless lump," Stiles says distractedly, looking at Derek. "Got a trim there, buddy? Looking good."

"I thought you'd appreciate that," Peter murmurs.

Stiles turns a delightful shade of pink, but he doesn't stammer the next words. "I was gonna ask if maybe you wanted to bring Derek upstairs?"

Peter doesn't have to ask why. If Stiles wasn't able to sleep — not that he gave himself much time to see — maybe he wants Derek close. Still, Peter doesn't think it's a good idea. "I think we should keep Derek contained in the basement for awhile. He still might be dangerous."

"Oh," Stiles says, sounding… tired and dejected. 

"Why don't you lie on the sofa down here and try to sleep instead of upstairs?" Peter suggests.

"You don't mind?" Stiles asks. He's wearing Peter's clothes again. And again, it pleases Peter's possessive, primitive mind.

Peter makes a gesture toward the sofa. "Go ahead."

Stiles gives him a pleased smile. "Thanks." Derek stops Stiles on his way to the couch, though, and catches him off guard. "What is it?"

Derek pulls him in for a hug. Scents him thoroughly, an intent look on his face. It's enough to make Peter laugh. He does, and Derek smiles at him. It looks shy and sweet, and Peter finds himself walking closer so he can put a hand on Derek's shoulder.

"Maybe I was wrong about him being dangerous," Peter says. "At least to us."

Stiles yawns and leans on Derek. "When's Cora coming?"

"I don't know; I need to talk to her," Peter answers.

"Think Derek will be okay with her, though?" Stiles asks.

Peter nods. "She's pack."

Stiles blinks at him. "What am I?"

_Ours_. The thought comes all at once, and Peter's taken off guard by its intensity. "You're pack, Stiles. Of course you are. Did you think you weren't?"

Something hopeful yet vulnerable shines in Stiles's eyes. "Well I'm just human…"

"You're our human," Peter says, light enough that it could be taken as a joke, and yet so full of truth he's almost afraid of it.

Stiles licks his lips. Holds out a hand to Peter. 

Peter moves into the hug and wraps his arms around both of them. Derek makes a pleased sound, but then he pulls away. Peter and Stiles watch in bemusement and Derek starts pulling pillows. cushions, and blankets from the couch to arrange on the rug.

"What's he doing?" Stiles whispers.

Peter frowns. "I'm not sure."

"He's making a bed? Is that a thing wolves do?"

"Sweetheart, I don't think you understand just how little experience I have with feral werewolves," Peter says, slightly exasperated by the question but more mystified by Derek's actions.

Derek kneels in the middle of his… bed. He looks at Peter and smiles proudly, though with a hint of question in his eyes.

"Yes, very good," Peter tells him. "It's a nice bed."

Derek smiles wider and tilts his head. Peter has no idea what he wants.

Stiles gives him a little shove. "Go on."

"What?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "He wants you to join him."

"What?" Peter asks. Even more mystified. "Why me?"

"Trust me," Stiles says.

Peter does. So he joins Derek on the little nest he's made. Once he's beside Derek he sees what he didn't see before — there's room for three. He looks at Stiles. "You too."

Stiles beams at him and gets down on the floor with them and immediately leans back against one of the larger cushions. "I can totally sleep right here."

Peter smiles at Derek. "Good job, pup."

Derek ducks his head, but Peter doesn't miss his pleased smile.

Somehow, the three of them wind up dozing on the floor, cuddled together and content. It's pack and security and everything Peter could ask for. But he knows it's temporary. Once Derek is back to himself, he won't want as much to do with Peter. He'll remember everything that's between them, all the bad history, and this will stop. No more easy touches or shy smiles, no more cuddling or scenting. They'll still be family, still be _pack_ , but it'll be back to the uneasy alliance that it's been in the past.

Peter's going to be sad to see all of this go.

* * *

Cora flies up a day later. Neither Peter nor Stiles feel comfortable leaving Derek, so Cora rents a car and drives to the safehouse. 

They're all a little worried. Derek's playing well with others as long as the others are Peter and Stiles, but introducing a new person might spell disaster. Stiles doesn't say how worried he is, but Peter can tell. Derek can too. He starts picking up on Stiles's agitation as they wait for Cora, and Peter has to physically stop Stiles from pacing the basement. He reaches out and holds on to the boy with both hands.

"Hold still," he says, looking Stiles in the eye. "You need to calm down."

"I'm calm!" Stiles tells him.

Peter raises his eyebrows and Stiles deflates. "You're not, and Derek's picking up on it. You don't want him in a state when his sister gets here. So we're going to sit down with him and breathe and try not to make things worse, okay?"

Stiles nods. Glances at Derek, then back. "How much longer before she gets here?"

"Could be another two or three hours," Peter says.

"How are we going to introduce her to him?" Stiles asks. The way he bites his lip is almost adorable, and Peter has to stop himself from commenting on it. 

"We're pack," he says instead. "But other than that, I think we should play it by ear. It's worked for us so far."

"I think she should show Derek that she…" Stiles trails off. 

Peter waits. Stiles obviously has something to say.

"I think Derek sees you as the alpha," Stiles mumbles.

Peter immediately wants to dismiss that idea, but Stiles is looking like that's what he expects. But he said it. He means it. And Stiles has always been perceptive. Maybe he's right about this.

He thinks back over his last few interactions with Derek. His nephew has been behaving slightly odd, but Peter put it down to him being more in touch with his wolf. Now, he examines his behavior in a new light.

Derek looks to Peter to see what he should do. He's submitted to Peter. He watches, waits until Peter eats first before he has his own food. Maybe there's been other things, too. It adds up.

Stiles is watching his face. He must see when Peter comes to the same conclusion. He smiles.

Peter looks over at Derek, who's watching them avidly. "You didn't think to tell me this before, Stiles?"

"I wasn't a hundred percent sure," Stiles says.

Derek tilts his head. He knows they're talking about him, just doesn't understand all the words. He's starting to pick up on certain things, though. Peter wonders…

He wonders. If Peter's his alpha, what is Stiles?

Does Derek remember he loves the boy? Love is something that doesn't just go away. He remembers Lydia bringing Jackson back to himself and wonders some more. Is Stiles the key to Derek's memories, to his human mind? Is Stiles his nephew's anchor, or could he be?

And then there's the little problem of what Stiles is to Peter. Or what he could be.

"We should be calm and cuddle," Stiles says. "It'll stop me from pacing and soothe Derek's wolf. Right?"

Peter cocks his head. "I think you just want to cuddle with us."

Stiles turns pink. Peter has mercy on him. 

"Come on," he says, pulling Stiles along and settling down in Derek's 'nest'. Derek smiles, liking this turn of events.

It's quickly become familiar now, snuggling up to Stiles and Derek. The scent of pack and contentment isn't something Peter wants to get used to, but he has and he hates how much he loves it. Even before the fire, the pack wasn't like this, at least not since Derek and Laura had grown up. But when they were younger, when they still wanted to be close without asserting their independence, it was good.

But that was a long time ago, and even then Peter was somewhat of an outsider. Too young to be equals with the adults in the pack, but too old to be one of the kids (though Talia sometimes thoughtlessly lumped him in with them in certain situations).

"What are you thinking about?" Stiles asks. "You're frowning."

Derek looks at him too, smelling worried. He bares his neck when Peter looks at him and Peter scents him absently. 

"You don't make a bad alpha, you know," Stiles murmurs. For a moment, Peter's not sure he's talking to him. Then…

"Are you forgetting my first attempt?"

Stiles huffs. "I don't think I'll ever forget _that_. But this is a whole new chance for you, right?"

Peter looks at him incredulously. "Stiles, it's not real. I'm not an actual alpha."

Stiles looks at him like he's missing something. Then, like he's weighing his answer, which is unusual. Stiles usually just says what's on his mind, no matter how harsh it might be. Finally, the boy says, "You could be."

"Are you advocating murder?" Peter asks, taken aback and trying his best not to show it. His words sound dry, at least he thinks they do.

"There's got to be some unworthy alpha out there who treats his pack like shit or doesn't have one or… you know." Stiles's face is red but he doesn't look embarrassed. He sets his jaw. "We could be a real pack."

Peter frowns. "Sweetheart…"

"I'm not saying our pack isn't real. What we feel, that's… that's something, right?"

Slowly, Peter asks, "Are you talking about the three of us?"

Derek whines. Nuzzles against his shoulder. Stiles nods slowly.

"This won't last, Stiles," Peter says, perhaps harsher than he should have. "Derek's going to remember everything, come back to himself, and then… everything will go back to the way it was."

Stiles shakes his head slowly. "No, it really won't. There's no going back after this. We've… we're a team."

"Derek, in his right mind, will never accept me as his alpha. We're pack and blood family, but it's a lot more complicated than-"

"This is what you've been angsting over, isn't it?" Stiles asks, cutting him off. "You think you're going to lose this."

Peter doesn't want to know what kind of vulnerable look is on his face. 

Stiles is the one to whine this time, and he slips an arm around Peter like he does it all the time, like it's perfectly normal to be this close. "We're pack. You're our alpha."

"Just like that?" Peter asks weakly, leaning into the embrace even though he knows he shouldn't allow himself the comfort right now.

"Derek isn't suddenly some other person just because he's feral right now," Stiles says.

"I know, but-"

"He loves you," Stiles tells him.

Peter hufs a laugh. "I think you'll find that you're the one who holds all his affection."

"Stop it. You act like you know everything Derek thinks, but you're not inside his head."

"I can feel his pack bond," Peter says slowly. "And yes, it's stronger. He does seem to care for me. Now. Right now. But in the future…" He sighs.

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither is Derek," Stiles promises. His heartbeat is steady. He believes what he's saying.

Peter drops his head to Stiles's shoulder and breathes in his scent. "You have to go back to Quantico and Derek will probably follow."

"I'm not going back," Stiles says.

"The FBI is your dream," Peter says, pulling back and frowning.

"I want to stay with you," Stiles says, then looks away. "The pack."

"But everything you've worked for is coming to a head. You can have a real future with the FBI."

"I'd rather be your emissary," Stiles says, and Peter finds himself speechless. Stiles's jaw is set, like he's waiting for a fight or a denial, but all Peter can think is _Yes_.

Derek makes a soft sound, a huff, probably to remind Peter and Stiles that he's still there and not getting the cuddles he craves. Peter doesn't know what to do or say, but then he's saved by a ringing sound.

Stiles looks up at the ceiling like he can see out of the basement and into the rest of the house. "Cora's here."

Peter looks between Derek and Stiles and nods. Right. "How are we doing this?"

"I hate to say it, but… mountain ash again," Stiles says. "Just until we're clear on how Derek's going to react."

Peter nods and gets up, untangling himself from the nest. He takes some steps back, ignoring Derek's disgruntled look. "Right. Do it."

Stiles gives him a cheeky smile. "Yes, Alpha."

* * *

**STILES**

Peter brings Cora downstairs and Derek immediately tenses. He shoves Stiles behind him, as if to protect him from the intruder, and Stiles sighs.

"It's Cora. Your sister," he tells him. 

He hears Peter murmur something to her, and then they walk forward. They do it slowly, and Stiles may not be able to see Derek's face, but he can read the wariness in every line of his body.

Stiles rubs at Derek's back, whispering reassurances he probably doesn't understand, at least not the words. But Stiles keeps at it. "She loves you, she won't hurt you. It's just Cora."

"I thought you said he was better," Cora says.

"This _is_ better," Peter murmurs.

"Hug her," Stiles suggests, peeking out from behind Derek. "Scent her, let Derek know she's pack." He keeps rubbing Derek's back as Peter and Cora embrace and scent each other. "See? Pack. It's okay. We wouldn't let anybody in here that would hurt you. You've got to know that, Derek."

Cora looks at Derek like she's starved for the sight of him. "Can I…" Her hands clench and unclench at her sides now, like she's restraining herself from hugging Derek.

"Let's wait until Derek settles a little more," Peter says. "Plus there's an ash barrier up for now, just in case."

Derek lets Stiles come around to his side. He still needs reassurance, though. Stiles slips a hand into one of Derek's. Derek takes his eyes off Cora for a moment and gives him a soft look.

Stiles smiles. "See, big guy? No danger. Just pack."

Derek pulls Stiles over to the couch, looking disgruntled. He arranges Stiles the way he wants, sort of like a big plushie he holds for comfort, and Stiles laughs. 

"Yeah, fine."

Derek is looking at Peter now. Stiles glances at his eyes and hides a smirk. Derek's got his soulful-eyed 'please, Alpha?' look going on. There's no way Peter will be able to resist that.

"What does he want?" Cora asks.

"To cuddle," Peter says drily. 

"Don't even act like you don't wanna," Stiles says.

"What should I do? Do you want me to go back upstairs?" Cora asks Peter.

Peter shakes his head. "Derek needs to get used to you. I suppose Stiles can lower the barrier for a few moments and you can sit inside, but at the edge. We'll get you closer little by little."

"Is this going to help Derek?" Cora asks. "He seems pretty comfortable with the two of you."

"You're pack," Stiles says sternly. Derek's arms tighten around him.

"But does he know that?" Cora asks. She swallows and Stiles has to wonder what she smells like to the werewolves.

Peter doesn't seem to know what to say to that, but Stiles does. "He will."

"We're a small pack, but we're not weak. How's your bond to him?" Peter asks her.

"I can feel it more now that I'm close to him, but it's not particularly strong," Cora says.

Peter nods. "It was the same when we found him, for me. But once he got to know me again, it's gotten a lot better."

"It's just so weird to see him like this," Cora says.

"Maybe stop talking about him like he's not here," Stiles says. He's rewarded with an aggressive snuggle to his neck that makes him laugh. "Okay, okay, you got me."

Cora and Peter share a look Stiles almost misses. He doesn't know what it means, though.

It feels good to be in Derek's arms, though. Even when Derek doesn't really know him, he seems to _know_ him. He may not be able to speak, but he shows his affection — more than he ever has before — clearly. For now, that's enough.

Stiles isn't sure how he feels about Peter, though. 

"Let's do this," Cora says, and Stiles adjusts the barrier.

Soon, she's sitting on the edge, cross-legged on the floor, and Peter joins Derek and Stiles in their comfort pile.

"It's funny. We spent so much time running from one disaster to another, and now we finally have some downtime," Stiles says. It's only sort of a joke.

Peter huffs and finds his hand with his own. Stiles takes it easily. Derek makes his purring sound again and this time Stiles just meets Peter's eyes without comment.

Peter smiles. "Happy, pup?"

Derek snuggles them both aggressively. 

"So this is normal?" Cora asks.

"I think he's overcompensating because he's confused about you," Stiles tells her.

Derek huffs and curls around Stiles more. 

Peter pets Derek's hair. "This is a good sign. He's not lashing out. I could probably get you closer without an incident, but I don't want to push yet. He's come so far."

"I'm just so grateful he's safe," Cora says. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You could stay with us. Be a part of our pack," Stiles says.

Peter makes a soft sound, but doesn't actually tell Stiles to be quiet about it. Stiles takes it as a win.

"What pack?" Cora asks drily. "I see two betas, one of them feral, and a human."

"I wouldn't call Derek feral anymore, really…" Stiles says, hoping to skate by the other question.

"You don't have an alpha, Stiles," Cora says pointedly. Peter is uncharacteristically silent. 

"We do," Stiles says. "His eyes are a different color, but Peter's definitely our alpha."

And Stiles realizes Peter's bracing for rejection. He's not saying anything because he doesn't feel like he has anything to offer Cora. Which is total bullshit, but whatever. Stiles will fix this.

Derek picks his head up before Stiles can say more. He looks at Peter for a long moment before baring his throat. It's not the first time he's done it, but he hasn't shown Cora before. How much of this conversation does he understand?

Cora sucks in a breath as Peter reaches out and accepts Derek's submission. Peter's fingertips trail over Derek's vulnerable throat, a scenting gesture as much as a dominant one. 

Something in Stiles's insides flip over at the sight. "Alpha," he murmurs, and bares his own throat.

It's not the same, he knows it's not. He's human, and while Derek's running on instinct, Stiles is all tactics. He bares his throat to show Peter and Cora he's serious about this, that he's on board with Peter-is-alpha train. And it makes Derek happy, too. 

He's not expecting to feel much when Peter touches him, but he does. One moment there's nothing there between them but some very human (and complex) emotions and UST, and the next there is an actual bond Stiles can feel. A pack bond. Maybe when he did this before, he didn't mean it enough. Or maybe before, it wasn't before a witness, so this makes the claiming more formal.

Stiles lets out an unsteady breath and looks into Peter's wide eyes. "Do you feel it?" he whispers.

Derek lets go of Stiles enough that he can fall against Peter. Stiles's head rests on Peter's shoulder and he forgets all about Cora. For the moment, he's just a new packmate feeling the overwhelming emotion of a new bond, and his alpha is there for him, holding him up, rubbing his back. 

"Yes," Peter says, somewhat belatedly but Stiles understands. 

"I guess it's a little late to add, 'If you'll have me,' huh?" Stiles says shakily.

"I'm honored to have you in my pack," Peter says. "Even if this only makes it official. You've always been pack to me."

Stiles brings his arms up around Peter's waist. He lets Peter scent his neck, the side of his head. And when Peter's done — it takes awhile, but he does finally seem satisfied — he kisses Stiles's temple. 

Stiles moves back just a little so he can beam into Peter's face. "I'm pack."

Peter raises his eyebrows. "You always have been."

But Stiles has proof, now. He looks at Derek, who is smiling at them. "I'm pack," he tells him.

Derek moves close and wraps his arms around them both.

Cora clears her throat. "So… I mean, this is touching. I'm very happy for you. But how are you going to make it work?"

She sounds hesitant, like she'd like to believe in something but has been burned — pardon the pun — too many times.

"We'll find an unworthy alpha for Peter to take care of. Then we'll be set," Stiles says. He hopes it doesn't sound too unfeeling. 

But Cora just nods. "I might know someone."

And Peter's not going to ask, so it's up to Stiles. "Will you stay and join the new Hale pack?"

Even Derek seems to be waiting for her answer.

Cora bites her lip. Squeezes her hands together. "I'd like to. But how do I know it's not going to fall apart again?"

"There aren't any guarantees," Stiles says. "All we can do is stay together and fight for what we have. I know I'm willing to do anything to keep this."

He knows it's important to Peter and Derek that Cora is in their pack. Pack is family, and family should be pack. Across the nascent bond, Peter is doing the emotional equivalent of holding his breath, waiting for Cora's answer. Stiles feels like he's doing the same.

"Do we have a territory? A place to live?" Cora asks.

"Beacon Hills will always be Hale territory," Peter says.

Cora looks down. "Not the happiest memories there."

"Does it matter where we live?" Stiles asks. "We could buy a freaking cabin in Alaska for all I care, as long as we're together. We have the most important thing already — we have each other."

A swell of pride and something stronger comes across the bond with Peter. Stiles looks at him and sees pure emotion in his eyes, but he doesn't know what it means. 

"So… just throw off everything else and join you?" Cora asks. The words sound almost sarcastic but underneath the bluster there's real hope. Stiles can practically feel it vibrating around her.

"Do you _want_ to join us?" Peter asks.

"You know I do," Cora says, sounding annoyed.

Stiles grins at her. "So do it."

Cora looks at him. "Are you taking the bite? Are you going to be a beta, or…"

"Stiles is our emissary," Peter says.

For a long moment, Cora just stares. Stiles braces for her to say something viciously sarcastic, but it doesn't come. After she's silent for almost too long and Stiles has almost bitten his lip until he tastes blood, she nods. "Okay. I trust you." She's looking at Peter but Stiles feels it, too. She trusts him to be their emissary, to look out for their welfare.

Good.

Stiles exhales. Derek whines, not knowing what's happening, and Stiles turns all his attention back to him. He runs a hand through his hair, or tries to, and smiles. "You need your hair combed, big guy."

"You're really good with him," Cora says while Peter disappears into the bathroom. "I shouldn't be surprised, I guess."

Peter brings Stiles a comb and Stiles gets Derek to sit at his feet so he can get a good look at what he's working with. 

"It's not hard," Stiles says with a shrug, and gets to work.

Derek's hair is longer than it should be, but Stiles finds he kind of likes it like this. There are a few small knots, and Derek makes a few whining noises as Stiles gently works them out, but other than that he's still and seems to be enjoying pack grooming time.

"There, perfect," Stiles says when he's finished. Now when he cards his fingers through Derek's hair, it's all smooth. No pulling. 

Cora fidgets in place. "So. I know I need to submit..." she starts to say.

Peter looks at her. "Now, or whenever you want. There's no hurry if you're not ready."

"I think I'll make a phone call first," Cora says quietly. "My bonds with the other pack aren't really strong, but it's not like no one will notice when I break them."

"Okay," Peter says. "Take your time. We're not going anywhere."

"Just make sure you do it — I mean, when you do, no rush — that you let Derek watch. I think he'll let you close after that. He understands pack."

Cora glances at Derek and nods. "Sure." She clears her throat and moves over to the edge of the barrier. "Could you…?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, and focuses. He's getting better at this.

Cora's mouth tips up from one corner. "You're good, huh?"

"I can manipulate mountain ash and not much else," Stile says wryly.

"It's an indication of what else you'll be able to do once you apply yourself," Peter says. "As soon as we have access to the pack library again, I think you'll learn to do a great many things."

Stiles assumes he means the library in the vault, since anything in the Hale house would have burned. 

"If you say so," Stiles says, though he's doubtful. Mountain ash is easy. It's something he can see and feel. He doesn't know how well he'll do with anything else.

Cora leaves the boundary and heads upstairs. Derek watches her and Stiles sets the ash again.

"You have no idea how much potential you have," Peter tells him. "I've felt it from the beginning."

"Is that why you offered me the bite?" Stiles asks. He's always been curious about that.

Peter tilts his head, thinking. "Even half crazed and almost entirely focused on revenge, I knew there was something special about you. I'm glad you turned me down, though. Not that I don't think you would make a magnificent wolf, but you have a lot of potential as a human."

"There's more to it though, isn't there?"

"The bite there on your wrist would have been a claim," Peter says slowly. "Think of the question I posed to you as a clumsy proposal."

Stiles's heart speeds. "What?"

Peter smiles, but it looks slightly sad. "I wanted you for my own. I wasn't in my right mind, at least not enough to be properly obsessed, but you intrigue me, Stiles. You always have."

Stiles keeps his eyes on Peter's face now. Watches for every twitch or microexpression. He wants to understand, because this sounds like more than just wanting him for his pack.

"If I'd been in my right mind, I would have done it differently, of course. I would have let you know what I was doing. Told you what a bite like that means."

Stiles looks away. Focuses on the comb still in his hands. He flips it over, runs his fingertips over the teeth while he tries to process. "Do you still feel like that? Do you still want me like that?"

Peter moves closer. Sits on the sofa next to Stiles. "I can't imagine not having feelings for you. But I'm thinking a lot clearer now. And I wouldn't step between you and Derek."

Stiles swallows hard. "There's no 'me and Derek'." He lifts his head so he can look at Peter again. He can't read him. 

"Don't lie to me," Peter says quietly. "You love him."

"I don't know how I feel," Stiles says honestly. "I mean, yes. I do. But that doesn't mean I don't have feelings for you, too."

"Since when?" Peter asks.

Stiles reaches out. He's not sure what he wants to do with his reaching hand… touch Peter somehow. His face, maybe. He wants to test the softness of his facial hair under his thumb, wants to trail his finger tips along his cheekbone, his jawline. 

Peter catches his hand and squeezes lightly. "Don't. Not unless you mean it."

"Getting to know you lately has really… I know you, Peter," Stiles says. "I want… I want who you are. I want you."

"Just because you've seen my softer side with Derek and you, that doesn't change who I am. I'm still-"

"I know," Stiles says. "And maybe that's what's so interesting about you. You're a lot of things, all at once, and we fit. Because I'm those things, too. Or have you forgotten that I was just as ruthless getting Derek back as you were?"

"Because it was Derek. Because you love him." Peter sounds almost desperate to make excuses. Like he can't believe Stiles might have feelings for him, so he's grasping at other explanations.

"And you're vicious when it comes to protecting the people you love, too. Do you think I wouldn't come for you if it was you who was taken? I'd tear the world apart."

"Because we're pack," Peter says. "You're loyal. It's one of the things I… admire about you."

Did Peter almost say 'love'? Is Peter in love with him? It sounds that way. Feels that way.

"It's true that I love this pack. And I'd protect Cora, too. But it's different when it comes to you and Derek," Stiles says.

"Why?" Peter asks. "Why me?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "You're not that obtuse. I know you aren't blind to your attractive qualities." Derek sighs. It's such a human sound that Stiles looks at him and smiles. "I know, he's ridiculous, isn't he?"

"Stiles," Peter says. "What are you saying?"

"I guess…" Stiles says, and trails off. He looks back and forth between Derek and Peter. "I guess I just care for you both."

Peter watches him evenly, and it makes Stiles's tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. 

"Are you angry?" Stiles finally asks.

Peter shakes his head. 

Stiles looks away. Mutters. "It wasn't exactly an easy realisation."

"No, I don't suppose it was," Peter says.

"And it's not like I know what to do with all these feelings. I couldn't be with Derek before because he didn't feel the same way-"

"He did. He always did," Peter tells him. 

"We were friends," Stiles says.

"Now who's being obtuse," Peter mutters, but Stiles hears him anyway.

"Just tell me what's going to happen," Stiles says. Begs. He needs some clarity badly. Some kind of resolution to this. 

"I think you're overtired. I think you need some rest, and then tomorrow things won't seem so-"

Stiles turns back to glare at him. "What, Peter? You think my feelings are going to change because I got a few hours sleep?"

Derek makes a soft, worried sound. He doesn't like the rising tension, even without knowing the cause.

Stiles deflates. Peter is right about one thing; Stiles is tired. "I think I'll go upstairs to sleep." He doubts he'll get much actual rest without the pack, but he needs some space to clear his head.

"You can come back if you need to," Peter says softly. He knows he probably won't sleep, either.

"Cora's coming back down in a minute, right?" Stiles says. "I don't want to wreck your reunion."

Peter doesn't answer, just watches him. Is that regret on his face, or something else?

Stiles nods to himself. If he tries to figure everything out now, he'll just drive himself crazy. He walks back upstairs. Cora's in the living room, off the phone, looking around at nothing in particular. 

"Hi," Stiles says awkwardly.

Cora looks at him and he realizes she's been crying. "Hey. Sorry. I'll get out of here in a minute if you want to…" She trails off, realizing Stiles probably doesn't need the room for anything.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asks.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" she asks. "You look like shit."

"Just tired," Stiles says. "I'd rather sleep in the basement but I need a little space."

Cora nods as if she understands. "Being in a pack is work."

"Did your... um. Your phone call. Did it go okay?" Stiles asks.

"It's like a major breakup, you know?" she says. "I just dumped one alpha for another one, and it's emotional shit."

"Oh."

"The thing in South America was never supposed to be permanent," she explains. "But it still…" She clears her throat and wipes her eyes. "It's still a big deal."

"But now you've got us, so," Stiles says, putting on a faux cheery face.

Cora snorts, but she smiles, too. "Yeah."

"I think you made the right decision," Stiles says.

She nods, and her smile turns genuine. It's small, but it's there. "Yeah, I think so, too."

* * *

**PETER**

Derek's looking at him, and not for the first time does Peter wonder what he's thinking.

"I'm sorry," Peter tells him. "I meant what I said to Stiles. I won't get between you."

Tilting his head, Derek reaches out to him. Peter sighs and goes to his side. He's immediately snuggled. Derek tucks his head beneath Peter's chin and makes a satisfied sound.

"I hope you don't remember this clearly once you're back to yourself," Peter says. "Otherwise, you're going to be very embarrassed."

He focuses on their bond. It's stronger than he can ever remember it being, even stronger than when Derek was young, back before the fire, before everything went to shit. They'd always been close, though Peter didn't properly appreciate it then.

Now, he doesn't understand how he feels, only that he wants to fight to keep what they have now. Including Stiles. But how can Peter accept what Stiles is offering? How can he not?

"I don't know what to do about you," Peter sighs.

Derek picks his head up and looks at him. He looks as if he'll speak, there's that kind of clarity in his eyes, but being verbal is still beyond him. 

Peter sighs again. "You deserve to have your say in this. I know you love Stiles. And he loves you — it should be an easy thing. But then I had to get honest with him and tell him how I feel."

It's not that werewolves are strangers to polyamory, but Peter's never given it a try. He's always been too possessive of his partners, at least the ones he cared about. And he definitely cares about Stiles. But…

"I wouldn't mind sharing him, as long as it's only with you. Keep it in the pack, I guess," Peter murmurs.

Derek keeps watching him.

"I don't know what that would mean for us, though. You and me."

Would Derek be willing to let Stiles and Peter have a relationship…

Peter lets out a huff of pained laughter. Of course Derek would. He'd probably try to give Stiles up completely, the way Peter would for Derek. 

"We definitely need to talk, pup. Hurry up and get those words back, okay?"

He hears Cora come down the basement stairs and feels Derek stiffen slightly in his arms.

Peter rubs his back. "It's okay, remember? It's your sister. She's pack. Family, not a threat."

Cora doesn't say anything at first, just comes in and sits in the chair away from them. "You both look cozy. I think I'm jealous."

She smells of salt, but doesn't look too miserable. Peter can guess what's wrong.

"Come here," he tells her.

Stiles left the barrier down, probably hoping for something like this. Cora comes closer, eyes darting between Peter and Derek like she's not sure of her welcome. Derek doesn't show any signs of aggression, though.

When she gets close enough, Peter pulls her in with one arm. Derek lets it happen, though he seems to be holding his breath. 

"How'd the call go?" Peter asks Cora quietly.

"As expected," she says, just as quiet. "It's sad, I guess. But this is what I want." She puts her head on Peter's shoulder in an unpredictable show of affection, and Peter lets out a long, slow breath. He puts his hand on her smooth head and she melts against him. "You smell right. More like pack than I've had in so long."

"Derek too, I imagine," Peter say.

Derek hasn't moved. He's at Peter's side, one arm still clinging, and Peter has Cora at his other side. He feels blessed. Too full of love at the moment to do anything other than close his eyes and breathe.

"Thank you, Cora," he whispers.

She pulls back jus a bit to look him in he eye. Then slowly, carefully, she bares her throat in submission. "Will you have me in the new Hale pack, Alpha?" 

Peter feels Derek's eyes on them, but he focuses on Cora. His hand slides around and presses lightly at her pulse. "Yes."

The bond they already had flares brighter, stronger, and Peter smiles. Derek must feel it too, because he sighs happily and extends a hand to Cora.

"This is weird," Cora mumbles when she's pulled into a three-way hug. "Weird… but good."

For the first time in close to ten years, Peter feels at peace. He will do anything to keep this. Whatever it takes.

But first, he needs to focus on getting Derek back to himself. Peter thought getting Derek safe and secure was the answer, but so far he hasn't said a word. He's not violent with his pack, not unsafe, but this isn't entirely him. 

Peter misses his nephew's voice. His sarcasm and mild humor. 

"What's wrong?" Cora asks.

He sighs. "Derek."

Derek picks his head up and looks at him, frowning a little. Well, he knows his own name at least. That's an improvement from the beginning.

Cora pats Derek's shoulder. "He'll be okay. He'll start talking when he's ready." She smiles, but Derek's brows are furrowed. Peter wonders, not for the first time, how much he understands.

"I guess I'm worried," Peter admits. "Right now it's like he doesn't remember the past. Doesn't remember how we're actually at odds. What happens when all that comes back to him?"

"He loves you. He loves his pack." But Cora doesn't sound totally sure when she says it.

"Will he still accept me as his alpha once he's back to normal, though?" Peter asks.

"Maybe we could use a little therapy," Cora says, and though the words are dry, he doesn't think she's joking completely.

"Know any good werewolf psychologists?" Peter asks.

Cora goes from frowning to smiling in the space of a moment. "Yes, actually. Maybe that _is_ what we need."

Peter raises his brows in question.

Cora laughs. "I should have thought of this before. Tessa!"

"Excuse me?" Peter asks, though his mind is whirring. If Cora knows someone who specializes in werewolf psychology, maybe this person can help Derek.

"I'll go call her. She helped me. She can help Derek, and… I mean, anyone who needs her?" She doesn't say Peter needs therapy, but she doesn't have to.

"Does she make housecalls?" Peter asks before Cora can slip away upstairs.

Cora grins. "You've got money." She gives Derek a quick hug, kisses Peter's cheek, and then she's gone before Peter can ask anything else.

He looks at Derek. "I'm afraid to hope," Peter says, but he can't help his smile.

Derek smiles back.

* * *

**STILES**

As expected, he can't get to sleep upstairs, and it's not that he doesn't try. But being away from Peter and Derek, especially when the bond is so new, is awful. While he's upstairs he feels Cora's connection to the pack strengthen and he smiles. He's not sure if he's welcome down in the basement yet, though. Cora's been away for awhile and surely Peter wants to spend time with her without Stiles getting in the way.

He thinks that, but what ends up happening makes him think otherwise because Peter leaves Cora downstairs with Derek and comes up to check on Stiles. It's only been about two hours, but to Stiles it's felt like forever.

"I can feel how miserable you are," Peter says after tapping at the doorframe to the bedroom. 

Stiles sits up in bed and looks at him. Then he shrugs. "I don't feel great, no."

"I was willing to give you some space to think, but not if it leads to this," Peter says.

"Well, I'm not crying over it or anything," Stiles says, mustering a smile. 

Peter steps further into the room. "No, but you aren't exactly happy either. And I want you to be happy. Or at least content."

"Is that an alpha thing?" Stiles wonders aloud.

"Partly. Probably," Peter says. "Mostly it's because I don't want you to feel so bad. Not if I can help it. So, can I?"

"Can you help it?"

Peter nods. "That's what I meant, yes. May I?" He gestures at the side of the bed.

Stiles scoots over to give him room to sit down. He waits, not knowing what Peter will do. Or say. He feels better already, though. 

"You don't have to hide from me," Peter tells him.

"That's not what being up here was about," Stiles says. "I just thought you might want some time with Cora."

"Without you?" Peter asks.

Stiles shrugs.

"You're pack, too. Just as important as Cora, maybe more so. You're certainly Derek's favorite."

Stiles feels his cheeks warm. "Am I your favorite, too?"

"I'm the alpha," Peter says with a tilt of his head. "I can't have favorites." Then he smiles, and Stiles knows he's full of shit.

"Right," Stiles says with a soft laugh.

Peter's voice goes serious. "If you want to stay up here, I'll stay with you. Just until you're ready to come back down." 

The point of coming upstairs in the first place was to think, to put some distance between himself and the overwhelming feelings he's been having for Peter and Derek. But since it didn't work, and he just made himself miserable — so miserable Peter could feel it through their pack bond — he guesses this is okay.

He guesses Peter understands all that, too.

"What are we going to do, Peter?" Stiles asks, sighing. He can't be in love with two people like this. The fallout would be catastrophic. He doesn't even know where to begin in sorting it all out, though.

Peter deliberately misinterprets his question, the asshole. "Cora's going to call someone to come help with Derek."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asks, frowning.

"Apparently she knows a professional who specializes in werewolf psychology," Peter tells him. "She'll come here for a price, and hopefully she'll get at whatever is holding Derek back."

Stiles doesn't know how he feels about someone else coming into their safehouse. Someone outside the pack, anyway.

"Maybe she can talk to us, too," Peter says, sounding hesitant.

"What, to resolve the dramatic love triangle we have going on?" Stiles clings to the blanket bunched around his waist.

"It doesn't have to be a triangle," Peter says.

Stiles's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"Polyamory is quite common in the shifter world," Peter says simply. "If Derek agrees, maybe you don't have to make a decision after all."

Stiles stares at him. 

Peter smiles, though Stiles can feel through their bond that he's nervous. 

"You couldn't have mentioned this before?" Stiles finally asks.

Peter's smile looks genuine and relieved now. "I wasn't sure you'd want to hear about it. Humans can be funny about some things."

"Polyamory isn't a werewolf-only concept, you know," Stiles tells him. "It's not something I've thought about a lot, but I'm not… I'm not _opposed_. I guess I'm just not sure how it would work."

"I can't begin to say, not without Derek's input," Peter says. "But it's something to think about."

Stiles nods, but thoughts are starting to run through his head at a breakneck pace. Which, thankfully, he's used to. "What do you _think_ Derek will say?"

Peter tilts his head. "We have to get him to where he can say anything at all before we can answer that. Let's focus on getting him back before we make assumptions about the future."

"Right," Stiles says. "Nothing will really matter at all until we get him better again."

Peter is looking at him intently. "I wouldn't say nothing."

Stiles blinks at him, at the strong feelings he can suddenly interpret coming through the bond. "What did you do?"

"There's a way to dampen the bond, to… not exactly hide what you're feeling, but at least turn the volume down, so to speak. I stopped doing that."

Wow. If this is how Peter feels for him all the time, then… 

Wow.

"You should probably teach me how to do that," Stiles says."Not right now, though. Right now you should… you should come closer and kiss me." It's a gamble, but with how Peter is feeling, he doesn't think it's a very risky one. 

"Are you sure?" Peter asks, staring at his mouth like he's hungry for it.

Stiles nods. "Just a kiss. We should be able to have that much. For now." He swallows hard and looks into Peter's eyes, which are totally focused on him now, more so than before. Stiles's heart is beating faster, harder, in anticipation. 

"I'm not so sure we could stop at one kiss," Peter says without moving. He's very still. Coiled, ready to spring. Very much a predator eyeing a tasty morsel he wants.

Stiles makes the first move. He reaches out and pulls Peter closer, and Peter lets him do it, coming easily into Stiles's arms. He's a lot more passive than Stiles expected. 

"Let's just try it and see," Stiles says, his mouth making the words but his mind already on what's to come. He's eager. Excited. And yet Peter still doesn't kiss him. Stiles frowns. "Dude."

Peter tilts his head a little in question.

Stiles grips his shoulders. " _Kiss_ me."

Peter finally — finally! — leans in a brushes a kiss against Stiles's mouth. It's light and restrained, yet Peter still trembles as if it shook him to his core. Maybe it did.

But Stiles isn't content, not yet. He won't be until Peter lets go and pounces him like he so obviously wants to do. He understands, though. Peter wants him. Has wanted him for ages. He's afraid he won't be able to stop once he gets going. And Stiles isn't sure, right now, if he wants to go that far yet.

It's infuriating and yet so, so understandable. Stiles wants to cry in frustration. He wraps his arms around Peter instead, and hugs him. He realizes then that he's trembling, too. 

Peter holds onto him and breathes shakily. "I know."

"Maybe we should try kissing somewhere that isn't a bed," Stiles whispers. He laughs wetly and realizes he's almost crying from the amount of emotion he's feeling, both his own and Peter's.

"I'm afraid it would probably be just as bad," Peter says wryly. 

"Not bad. Just frustrating," Stiles says.

Peter nods and exhales a shaky breath. "I have to believe we're doing the right thing by waiting, though."

Stiles can feel his conflict. On the one hand, Peter is just as frustrated as Stiles is. He wants him. But he's also being rational about it, not wanting to get involved until they at least talk to Derek about what's happening, about what they want. And they can't do that yet.

"You're a good person, Peter Hale."

Peter gives a playful growl. "Take that back right now."

Stiles laughs, which was probably the point. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you like it!


End file.
